


Building fires

by youremyqueen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Femdom, First Time, Kink Meme, Outdoor Sex, POV Female Character, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-05 23:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youremyqueen/pseuds/youremyqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's seen Crows before, old men and boys as green as the Southron grasses that she's only ever heard of in stories, but never one so pretty as Jon Snow.</p><p>Written for the asoiaf kink meme, prompt was: from Ygritte's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Building fires

She's seen Crows before, old men and boys as green as the Southron grasses that she's only ever heard of in stories, but never one so pretty as Jon Snow. He's young, pale and dark as the North, and he'd be even prettier out of that awful black cloak.

Ygritte takes a great grasp of curly hair in her fist and pulls, tugging his head back to stare at the white, unmarred skin of his throat, long and tense for whatever attack she may level upon it. She smirks.

"Slowly now," she tells him, dragging her lips against him soft and gentle, like the feather beds he's sure to have grown up sleeping in. He may be a bastard in his own land, but up here he's as spoiled as any little prince, with no knowledge of anything that's worth knowing. Still, he's so _pretty_. "I want to make sure you can keep up."

"I can keep up," he snaps. Always so defensive, buttoned up tight in all his silly black cloth.

She tugs at the strings of his cloak rough as she can, jerking it off of him and shoving him flat on his back. She straddles his hips with her own pale thighs, grasping him strong as vices. "Can you, now?" she asks, but it's hardly a question, because she knows very well his pretty, pretty head is spinning like a top, same as his pretty, pretty lips gasp out her name on a choked, quiet breath.

" _Ygritte_."

"Hush, now," she tells him, voice deceptively soft, before she grabs his wrists and slams them to the ground, pinning him against the furs that glow dull and orange in the light of their dying fire.

Even if he'd meant to speak again, she gives him no time, no room for anything but her lips on his, crushing and biting and smiling a quiet smile, dragging her tongue along his teeth and delighting in the way he shivers in response.

She supposes that down below The Wall, they have to have all their fancy touches and soft teasing before they can get to the fucking, but when a man steals a woman, he doesn't have the time to dally around with such useless pleasantries - he gives it to her hard and he gives it to her good. And that's how she gives it to Jon Snow.

Pushing his trousers, black as everything else, around his thighs, she settles right up on him, hardly bothering with half a warning before she sinks down onto his cock. She's wet enough for it to go as smooth as it's like to, and it's made all the better by the whimper that flies it's way right out of his mouth and into hers on contact. The whimper turns to a groan, and her own panting joins his in the cold night air, warming them twice as well as any fire could.

He's quickly undone, shaking and jerking and dragging his blunt fingernails along her back and against her shoulders, and she smirks, riding him as he shudders beneath her.

As she'd suspected, he really can't keep up. But it's no matter - he'll learn.


End file.
